


The Job She Shouldn't Take

by CavannaRose



Series: Rose Wilson Fics [16]
Category: Deathstroke the Terminator (Comics), Teen Titans (Comics), Terror Titans (Comics)
Genre: Abduction, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-20
Updated: 2017-01-02
Packaged: 2018-09-10 00:21:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8919280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CavannaRose/pseuds/CavannaRose
Summary: Even Rose knows it's wrong, but somebody has something they can hold over her, and that cannot be allowed.





	1. Chapter 1

Tap. Tap. Taptaptap. Tap. Taptap. Taptaptaptaptap. Rose's foot beat an arrhythmic staccato on the floor as she sprawled across the rusted folding chair. A disgruntled growl escaped her lips as she tilted back onto two legs, the aging metal bowing just slightly. A door slammed shut down the hall, the hollow thud followed quickly by the sharper echo of metal hitting tile. The white haired girl leaned forward, single eye narrowing in irritation at the cracks spreading further from where her perch collided with the floor.

"Garbage, piece of shit dump." With another sound of disgust she pushed the curls from in front of her face, tucking them into the band of her eye patch before standing and tossing a small black object onto the seat. The young assassin spent an extra few moments to stretch out the kinks in her back. Apparently this client was not actually going to show up tonight, which meant she could go hole up for a few hours and poor herself into a dirty shot glass or seven.

Just as her gloved hand settled on the filthy doorknob, the harsh 'deedly-dee' of the burner phone she had so haphazardly discarded. For a moment she paused, her teeth catching in her bottom lip as she considered just leaving it. The deadline had technically passed. Of course, there was the matter of her empty bank account to consider...

"You're late." She bit out into the phone, one foot resting on the seat as she kept her eye firmly on the exit. All this fucker had to do was piss her off in the slightest and it was whiskey town for the night. As he spoke she absently worried her bottom lip with her teeth. The idiot nattered on and on as she half paid attention. "Fuck." She interrupted, the tang of copper filling her mouth as she bit a little too hard. The voice on the other end made an inquiry.

"Listen asshat, I don't have the time or the patience for your sob story. What is the fucking job, and make it quick." Half a minute later. "Has she committed any crimes? You know I don't fuck with innocents here. I don't give a fuck what you're charging..." The killer metahuman's face drained of colour, her voice deepening to hiss of rage. "Motherfucker when this is over, you and me are gonna dance, and I will paint the streets with your entrails."

Rose snapped the phone closed, crushing it in her hand, relishing the barest hint of a scream that the electronics made as she ground them into dust, letting them drop onto the floor beneath her baleful glare. This was not a job she wanted to take. The fuckwad's slithery voice clung to her neck, whispering his foul little secret in her ear on repeat. Once this was over, and she had his money, she was going to relish taking him apart, piece by scummy piece.

The things she did for money.

They couldn't hold a candle to what she would do for revenge.

Rose tugged on her mask, double checked her katanas and hit the street. Five blocks over and three down she picked up a file from the dead drop. She flipped through the information halfheartedly, that tiny corner of herself that spoke with Eddie's voice filling her head with doubts. She'd heard of Retz Incorporated, she'd even heard of the heiress. Huffing she tossed the surveillance sheets into a trash bin, following it up with a pair of lit matches. Leaving the fire burning behind her she moved through the Gotham streets towards the nicer part of town.

Penthouses were a pain in her ass. Rose stared dispassionately down at the concierge, blood congealing in a sticky mess across his desk. The only way she was getting this done was if she turned what remained of her conscience off. She was Slade Wilson's daughter. His only heir. She had trained at the knee of Deathstroke, Sweet Lilli, Nightwing... She could do whatever it took, but fuck if her vengeance wasn't going to be all the sweeter for having to step outside her comfort zone.

The elevator pinged, and Rose was beside it in a breath, blades in her hand. The elderly lady who stepped out with her furry rat-on-a-string style dog let out a gasp just as the blade came out the other side of her throat. Rose stepped back, shaking the blood off her blade as the woman crumpled, the dog yapping away in agitation, unable to reach Rose as it's leash was caught under it's dead owner. Rose kicked the lady out of her way, giving the dog a long, quelling stare before stepping into the elevator.

Killing and abducting innocents was one thing, yippy little dogs was a whole new level of hell she wasn't ready to condemn herself to yet. The masked mercenary closed her eye, touching the kashira of her katana to her forehead. When the elevator stopped she re-sheathed the blade before padding down the hallway. She crouched at the door, tugging a pin from her hair and working at the lock. If there were silent alarms, she wasn't worried. The Ravager moved far too fast for the Gotham police to catch, and they had more important matters to contend with.

As was often the case with these swank establishments, the presence of a person at the main entrance meant individual suites were... lacking in the security department. In less than five minutes Rose was inside and quietly padding through the dark halls of the penthouse. She hesitated in the hallway, increasing her breath rate to artificially heighten her adrenaline for a moment, giving her a flash of the next few moments. Ahead, to the left. The soft rise and fall of breaths guided her foreward.

Like a ghost she slipped into the sleeping young woman's bedroom, catching the edge of the comforter in one hand and pulling it off the bed with a sharp yank. "Get up, you're coming with me."


	2. Chapter 2

The day had been long, too long, and exhausting. The life of Renaria Retz was a complicated one, and this day had proven to be no different. On top of the impending visit of her father to Gotham, a rare event indeed, the cleaning lady had erased her equations from the large, roll-around white board in the living room. Not only annoying, but it set her back a great deal. Renaria's stress levels were at an all time high, and perhaps this was the reason she could finally sink into the bed she normally occupied. Sleep usually eluded the young genius, but tonight was different. Tonight, the silk sheets of the king sized bed welcomed the exhausted woman, allowing her to fall into a deep sleep. She had just managed to reach R.E.M. Sleep when she was rudely interrupted by the covers being pulled away, cold flooding her body. Renaria awoke in a haze of confusion. She barely registered the woman standing above her, or the blades she carried. No, the only thing she recognized was that she had rudely been pulled from her rest.

 "Excuse me, who are you?" Her words were blearily melded together. Ren simply sat up and rubbed at her eyes.

Silks, satins, and fancy lace knickers to boot... the fact that all this luxury was amassed for one slip of a female, shorter even than Rose herself, was beyond irritating for the assassin. She tossed the blanket to the floor, grinding her filth-encrusted boot into the fabrics to demonstrate her disgust. It was petty, but she couldn't resist. Not after how many nights she had slept on the street, stomach empty.

Rose stepped closer to the bed, ramming a katana through the mattress beside the spoiled little princess' bed. She hovered her masked face over the other girl's.

"Call me Ravager. I'm the bitch about to make your life a fuck of a lot less comfortable for the forseeable future. Put some pants on princess, we're going for a walk."

The mercenary yanked her blade through the mattress as she stood, the senseless destruction putting a small smile on her face. Violence always lifted her mood, and since she was already uncomfortable with the scenario from her own loose, moral standpoint... well she was just going to have to ease her mind somehow.


	3. Chapter 3

Ren merely blinked. Although she was not accustomed to being rude to others, or acting like most of the others in her social class, this was absolutely ridiculous. "I don't know who you think you are, or why you're here, but I am not going anywhere." Ren stared at the hole in her bed, the foam and internal parts of the mattress now visible. She sighed, running a hand through her dilapidated hair, standing. Her satin nightdress floated back down to cover her hips, one thin strap falling down her shoulder. The short woman's dark eyes turned into a fierce glare. "If this is some kind of joke, please leave. I have a lot of work to do tomorrow and I would appreciate getting some rest."

The bitter echo of a chuckle fell darkly from Rose’s lips. “And here the docket said you were smart... tsk tsk... Come along now, poor little rich girl. I haven’t got all night and I am not known for my patience.” She spun her blade across her hip and slid it into its scabbard on her back with a distinctive ‘snik’ sound. The girl had guts, but so did every idiot down in Crime Alley. It would take a fuck of a lot more than that to impress her.

With an air of practiced precision, Rose placed a hand next to the ruined hole in the mattress and leapt over the bed, landing far too close within the other young woman’s personal bubble, that same sardonic smile cemented onto her features. “I don’t much care for doing things the hard way, particularly not when I’m sober and overtired. How about you spare us both the cat and mouse game and you just come along? Someone as clever as you’re supposed to be oughta know when she’s beaten. Why waste the energy?”

Reflexes and speed augmented by the serum her father had forcefully injected into her veins, Rose lashed out, grabbing for the other girl’s wrist. Like she said, patience wasn’t her virtue... if she even had any.


End file.
